


Hot Air

by firewoodwander



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Cunnilingus, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, Female Clones, M/M, Now with the Extended Cut!, Open Relationships, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, This Is STUPID, Vaginal Fingering, canon timeline who?, consent is key kids, genderswapped clones, genuine love & care for my faves, they deserve no less of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewoodwander/pseuds/firewoodwander
Summary: Or, Rex and Anakin repeatedly walking into things they don’t want to.(Or do but shouldn’t, but that’s a secret)
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion/CC-2224 | Cody, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-21-0408 | Echo/CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555/CT-5385 | Tup, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part of my brain that is reserved solely for ‘women hot, tiddy soft’ took over when I was half asleep one morning and now all our favourite troopers are women. Honestly the only reason they aren’t already in canon is because the Sith are cowards and possibly also because the galaxy would probably have been quaking in fear, but hey ho, we love them in each and every form they come in.  
> Also, please never let me think of such a ridiculous, stupid premise ever again, I’m ashamed of myself enough as it is already.

_I._

Rex sighs as she hefts her bucket from her head and taps open the door like she usually would of an evening just like this. It closes behind her and she opens her mouth to say “Cody—”, only to be cut off by a strangled sort-of yelp.

Cody is, as usual, found to be seated in the chair at her desk. Unlike usual, she is spun to face the room at large (and, inadvertently, Rex), and is reclined over the flexible chair back and desk surface. Her hair is in messy disarray, her lower blacks are hanging from one arched ankle and her uppers are rolled to just below the curve of her breasts—a shame, Rex is just coherent enough to think, that they aren’t slumped on the floor beside the remnants of her surely tattered control.

Knelt serenely between her trembling, sweat-slicked,  _ glistening _ bronzed thighs is a slender figure of pale Jedi robes and short ginger hair, in which one of Cody’s clawed hands has buried itself in quite thoroughly. In fact, her fingers clench so tightly in the strands that it looks painful for both of them as she stares at Rex over her labouring chest, mouth absently gaping and coppery eyes blown wide and dark. Her mean and powerful thighs curl deliberately around the man buried between them, as if making an admirable, though useless, attempt to protect his identity. As if anyone in the 212th, and, by extension, the 501st,  _ didn’t _ know.

“Ah, my sincere apologies,” Rex teases. “I shall have to comm you later, Commander. Please don’t let me interrupt your evening, it would be awfully rude of me—”

“Fuck—ngh—fuck  _ off, _ Rex!” Cody manages to toss out, brow creasing in a familiar, tortured manner as the General plainly refuses to let up on his assault. She gasps and smacks her head back on the desk in time to watch Rex slip, snickering, from the room, and throws as many creative expletives as she can think of after him.

_ II. _

Whatever people say about the Hero With No Fear, none of them can, with any basis, call him stupid. Some would call it a slight against the Jedi Order, or some the Negotiator, and some simply cannot see past the veneer of righteousness and pure competency.

The fact is, Anakin isn’t  _ actually _ stupid.

Which means that this is all an honest mistake, truly.

There he was, waiting for Obi-Wan innocently in his rooms and planning to take him out to dinner or something. How was he to know that Master Vos was in the Temple—he hadn’t even known he was  _ planetside _ —and how was he supposed to know that they’d be doing…  _ that _ by the time they stumbled through the door? Obi-Wan was never usually so blatant!

He’s working on a datapad when it happens, tucked into the corner of the sofa and cursing the sticking servos in his arm. He had felt it when his Master made planetfall in the middle of Ahsoka’s saber skills lesson, and had thought he’d extend a polite offer of a meal out and away from all the Jedi business and the war that now seems to come with it.

Obviously, Obi-Wan had made his own plans in the meantime.

There’s a small thud of something dropping against the door that makes Anakin look up, just in time for it to open, and just in time for it to expel two rather improper Jedi Masters locked at the faces and hips and several places elsewhere. In the shock of it all Anakin doesn’t even have the frame of mind to make a noise; he just sits there gaping, trying desperately to ignore where the seven hells Vos’ (and, for that matter, Obi-Wan’s!) hands are straying.

“I— _ Master!” _ he eventually manages. They’re against the wall by the door now, and Obi-Wan breaks away with the gall to look  _ surprised _ as he peers over Vos’s shoulder.

“Anakin!” he says, breathless. “What in the Force are you doing here?”

“Waiting for  _ you, _ Master!” Anakin is torn between sinking farther into the sofa and running for the door, so ends up coiled protectively around his pad. Vos, who is failing to hide his laughter in Obi-Wan’s neck, nearly chokes.

“Well,” Obi-Wan murmurs, “this certainly isn’t what I expected of today.”

“Oh come on, Obes, caught-by-the-padawan is when you freeze up?” Vos snickers. He tosses his dreads with a flick of his head and turns to leer at Anakin. “I’ll give you your Master back tomorrow, yeah? That good with you?”

“Quinlan—”

“You know what? Yeah, sure, whatever, you do that,” Anakin says. He doesn’t look at either of them as he scrambles from the settee and out of the door, but it doesn’t mean he can’t practically _feel_ the grin that follows him out, nor does it mean he can’t hear the wet sounds he’d really rather not associate with his former master, _thank you very much._

_ III. _

Rex is tired. She’s spent the day throwing shinies around the mats in the gym, chasing after Jesse and Hardcase, and at one point trying desperately to convince the Commander that no, they do  _ not _ need her to crawl through the vents to check for traps and bugs, they definitely have droids for that, togrutan super-senses be damned.

So, needless to say, Rex is  _ tired _ and very much looking forward to crashing with Cody in deference to their customary double-up whenever either of their ships takes on a second crew. So much so that she isn’t really paying attention by the time she gets to the showers, too distracted with thoughts of warm sheets and bodies and a good, clean set of blacks. So much so, that Cody has to clear her throat three times before she looks up.

Before her eyebrows leap towards her sharp blonde hairline.

“Rex, I get it,” Cody says. “I really do, but if you’re not going to join in I strongly suggest you get out.”

Because the fact that the officers’ showers are empty is not strange enough to raise any flags, but the two women kneeling at Cody’s feet, hands on thighs and eyes glassy,  _ definitely _ is.

Crys and Wooley have their full attention on the Commander and are just as naked as she is, trembling slightly. Either from nerves or adrenaline or the cool edge of the ship’s recycled air, she’ll never know. Cody has her arms crossed over her chest where she stands staring Rex down, but even the fondness in her gaze isn’t enough to dampen just how cowed Rex feels under it.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles hastily. It’s a good thing she’s only removed her helmet and pauldron. “I’ll just... wait for you back in the room.”

“If you would.” 

When Rex tears her eyes away from the scene she makes a concerted effort not to look back, mostly because she doesn’t think she’d stop herself from simply dropping to her own knees next to them, and that is something she is  _ not _ properly prepared for tonight.

The door clicks closed accusingly behind her. 

Nice one, trooper.

_ IV. _

When the door to the 501st’s measly ARC berthing is opened, Anakin is met with the unexpected and slightly startling sight of trooper Echo in only her lower blacks and breastband. And no, whatever you may think, it is not the state of undress that perturbs him—it is in fact the way she wipes her mouth quite thoroughly on the back of her hand while the furrow of her brow screams bloody murder... That is, she does until her brain catches up enough to recognise him.

“General, sir!” she says, snapping to attention. “How can I help you?”

The shift in stance (the fortune of which yet to be decided) allows Anakin a new line of sight around her broad shoulders into the room. There are two troopers on the bunk behind her, one with a mussed sheet of dark hair that glimmers in the low light, and one of which the most he can really see is the numerical tattoo bold and black on her right temple. Trooper Tup, from the small teardrop on her cheekbone and the giveaway-few troopers who’ve displayed dedication enough to keep long hair, is splayed across ARC Fives’ lap on her knees, her head thrown back on her partner’s shoulder and her blacks missing altogether. 

Anakin clears his throat in no minor panic and shifts so he won’t be able to see them as well in the dim light.

“My sincere apologies for the interruption of your downtime,” he says. “I’m looking for my Captain. I’ve been unable to raise her on comms.”

Echo’s nose twitches in an amusing but unreadable way. “The Captain was here a short while ago, sir, but was called away to deal with something. My best bet is that you’ll find her in the upper hangar bays.”

A long, high whine does its level best to draw Anakin’s attention back to the two hidden away in the bunks. Anakin tries not to think, tries not to see the way Tup’s heaving breaths move her whole chest or Fives and her thick, clever fingers thrust their way into slick heat. How long have they been working her up, he wonders inadvisably, causing him then to force his mind away from the image of his Rex naked and beautiful and sprawled amongst the sheets with a more put-together trooper, from before the assault of the fingers that slipped the tie from her hair, settled happily between her thighs.

“Right, thank you,” Anakin says. Nods. “Thank you very much. Sorry again for the interruption.”

“It’s no big deal, sir,” Echo promises lightly. “We always make time for our General.”

“Appreciated, Echo, but please don’t hesitate to tell me when to kriff off.”

She grins, leaning out of the doorway as Anakin makes the beginnings of a hasty retreat.

“We wouldn’t dream of doing anything of the sort, sir. Best of luck with the Captain!”

Anakin swears under his breath when he turns around, and certainly,  _ resolutely, _ does not run away.

That would be undignified.

_ V. _

Technically, there’s no real reason for Anakin to be here. All Rex is doing is checking up on her men, making the rounds again and again in an attempt to stave off the hyperspace restlessness. Somewhere between the bridge and maintenance they’ve ended up on a search for a wayward Lieutenant Jesse with a forgotten datapad, though  _ search _ is a rather generous term—it’s more a game of  _ how many places can we check before we get to Kix. _

To be met with shrugs and the occasional snicker is less worrying than it is condemning, but the longer Rex can draw out their something of a wild womprat chase the less time they have to spend idly kicking around annoying the deck officers.

“General, sir!” chimes Hardcase when they stop by the rec room usually occupied by Torrent. “May we ask how the Commander’s doing?”

“Of course,” Anakin says, smiling softly. “She’s doing well, from what I hear. Does anyone have any well wishes they’d like to send when we stop by to check on her?”

“I think that’d be all of us, sir,” grins Fives.

Anakin nods “We’ll let her know.”

“And I have a feeling we’ll find our Lieutenant at the same time,” Rex agrees.

“Good luck,” Coric wishes them, and then they’ve run out of excuses to avoid medical any longer. Rex lets their shoulders brush while they walk side by side through the halls.

“Just take a deep breath, sir, and it won’t hurt so much.”

“You wound me, Captain. I’m not Obi-Wan.”

“Well, you do a very good impression.”

The way Ahsoka’s face lights up when she sees them step through the infirmary doors is worth the threat of ambush by hypospray.

“Rexter! Skyguy!” 

“Don’t you dare get out of that bed Snips, or all of us will be in trouble,” Anakin warns, though he does lean down to take her hand and squeeze it in reassurance. “Everyone’s hoping you’ll be springing about as normal soon.”

Rex nods from the foot of the bed. “And as much as we hate to disturb you, we were wondering if you’ve seen Kix around.” She gestures with the datapad. “Jesse’s lost this, but we’ve managed to lose  _ her _ in the meantime.”

Ahsoka grins. Her sharp teeth glint in the bleak white striplights, and there’s no mistaking the humour in her eyes. “Try the store rooms. I think Kix has commandeered one as an unofficial office to smuggle extra field supplies from the CMO.”

“You haven’t seen them?” Anakin asks.

_ “That _ would be telling,” she smirks.

Curious, Anakin follows Rex into the long, unmarked corridor lined with plain white doors. None of the operating rooms are in use, judging by the small, dark warning lights above each.

“Try the ones on the right,” Rex says, already keying open Storage Room 1 on their left. The first door Anakin opens is stacked with precisely-organised boxes of tools and protective equipment. The second seems to hoard at least half the ship’s deep cleaning chemicals. The third…

_ “Ah.” _

He paws blindly for the control panel even as Rex leans over his shoulder to see. She sighs, heavily, when the door slides back to obscure their… View.

“Why am I not surprised?”

It makes Anakin wonder if there’s something in the water. Like the previous unfortunate accidents the sight that had greeted him has very unhelpfully seared itself into his memory; the back of Jesse’s head, thrown back where she sat in the only chair; the expression on Kix’s face, her open mouth on Jesse’s and her closed eyes as she knelt over her partner’s lap; the fluid, practised way she moved under her hands… The unmistakable,  _ mortifying _ flex of her naked thighs where Jesse’s hand was, thank the Force, hidden from view.

Rex props the datapad on the floor up against the door and punches in the code for the external lock. She looks at Anakin, hides a grin behind her hand, and leads him back into the ward. Ahsoka must see something on his face because she too hides a smile and scrunches her nose in a wince.

“Oops?” she offers.

“I honestly could go without,” Anakin mutters. Rex brushes discreetly against his side and pushes him towards his padawan.

“Come on, let’s fill her in on what she’s missed being stuck back here.”

_ I. _

It is not the first time the General has shown up in her quarters unannounced. 

No, hold on, that sounds worse than she really meant.

It isn’t the first time that Anakin has shown up in Rex’s quarters to surprise her.

(There, much better.)

She’s already peeling apart the seals on her helmet and pauldron while she’s opening her door, ready to toss everything onto their shelves and step straight into the fresher, when she stops in the middle of the room, half-in half-out of her chest piece, and turns to the figure on her bed, sitting idly with a nonchalance that becries how he belongs there.

In a way, she kind of wishes he does.

“Long day, Captain?” he asks pleasantly. He tips his head from hanging over one shoulder to the other, long shimmering hair swaying as he does.

“Quite,” she replies, though she’s already forgotten the question. He’s in the outermost of his usual Jedi robes and the outermost only, it seems, showing off a good long v-section of his chest and the length of his muscular calves and (best of all) most of his thighs. He lifts the ankle he has crossed over his knee and places his foot back on the floor, spreading his legs in just the right way for the tunic to fall into the gap and cover him.

Her armour clatters to the desk surface instead of its proper home in her haste to undress.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Anakin teases. His little smirk is the same smug as it is when he has a Seppie at the end of his lightsaber—either very punchable or very kissable, she is still yet to decide.

“Someone’s been planning this,” she counters. “Should’ve known you were up to something when you disappeared after mid-meal.”

“Oh? Do you want to see it, then?”

Rex drops the last of her blacks to the floor and steps up to him, toe-to-toe. “Go on, then, baby. Give us a show.”

Anakin lowers his gaze and lets his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. One perfectly curled strand of hair slips from behind his ear, and if she didn’t know better Rex could swear he’s abusing the Force for the drama it. Still, his fingers trail their way down the hem of one half of the tunic, all the way to his waist-tight obi. Rex waits with a roaming gaze as he unties it, as he lets it slip away from his waist, as he shrugs the whole thing from his shoulders and lets it fall down his blaster barrels of biceps to the bed sheets—

She’d say the beauty of his favourite black lace makes him look just the part of the perfect supermodel holo, but he’s already knocked all the breath from her lungs.

One knee curls up to hook his heel over the edge of the mattress. “See something nice, Captain?”

“You are going to be the death of me I swear to all the gods—”

Her harness is in her hands and she’s back between his thighs when she hears it. The door behind them, the one that Rex in all her lustlovefatigue-hazed remiss had forgotten to lock, slides open.

“Cap, I  _ know _ you only just got in but— _ holy shit!” _

Rex snaps her head around to glare venomously over her shoulder. “Haven’t you ever heard of  _ knocking, _ trooper?”

Fives, half dressed-down and very obviously appreciating her naked behind, makes a high, offended noise. “I  _ did!” _

Rex grits her teeth. “Is the ship crashing?” 

“No, but—”

“Have the Seps appeared out of empty vacc?”

“Not that either, but—”

“Is there any other kind of life-threatening emergency I need to be made aware of?”

She winces. “No.”

“Then get.  _ Out.” _

Fives slinks backwards through the open door, curling her fingers around the frame as she tries to hide the bulk of her body behind it. “Seriously though,” she ventures, “who’s the lucky vod?”

Rex flicks an irritated frown his way as Anakin grins and leans lazily around her broad frame. She wonders, suddenly, how hard it might be for Kix to reattach jaws from where they’ve fallen out of troopers’ skulls.

“Eve—ning,” the General drawls, and Fives’ mouth clicks shut again. And then she swallows. Hard.

Rex turns the glare up a few notches, but the ARCs are ARCs for a reason, and Fives still isn’t scared off quite yet.

“Room for one more?” she asks, high and opportunistically hopeful, and Rex is one-hundred percent going to reward her for it later.

Later. Right now, she has a boyfriend to take to pieces, alone.

Rex turns around to face her trooper fully and thrusts out her free arm, pointing as far down the corridor as she can.

_ “OUT!” _


	2. Rex & Anakin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, desperately trying to hold down some kind of pacing and at the same time thinking about how this entire thing is ridiculously gratuitous:

Anakin shivers as the door to Rex’s quarters slides closed again. He looks down at himself while Rex wanders over to lock it—“No more of that, thank you,”—and pulls the robe away from himself properly, flinging it onto the floor. He waits for her to turn back around to look away coyly, letting his hair fall over his face as he does.

“Oh,” Rex says. “Oh, you  _ liked _ that.”

Anakin doesn’t look up; doesn’t answer. He doesn’t brush his wrist over the half-hardness of his cock threatening to peek out of the long opening in his shorts. He doesn’t admit that Fives’ parting words had sent such an unexpected frisson of heat straight down his spine.

“You liked that,” Rex says again. The harness is left at the foot of the bunk while she busies herself stroking down Anakin’s face and neck and chest with cool, tantalisingly soft fingers. “You liked her seeing you. You wanted her to, didn’t you? You want to be seen. To be pretty.” Anakin still doesn’t answer, only looks up at her with a small smile she kisses off him. “Don’t tell me... You even liked the thought of her joining in, didn’t you?”

She finds one nipple beneath the flimsy lace and rolls it between her fingers.

“What would you have done if I’d dragged her inside, General? If I’d stripped her down and made you watch while I worked her up to dripping down her own thighs?”

Anakin grunts when her wrist drags over the tip of his cock, now flushed and making itself known in the proceedings. 

“You’d want that,” she continues between kisses, and her voice is low and  _ incredible. _ “Want her. You’d like us both taking you apart, wouldn’t you? If I lay her down beneath you and fucked you into her, took you from both sides and didn’t let up.”

“Kriff— _ yes!” _ he pants, struggling not to thrust his hips into the teasing almost-touch of battle worn fingers over his cock. Gods, what he would do for the both of them taking him out of his head, forcing the storming cacophony of the Force back down to a murmur, if only for a few minutes.

“Or maybe we would touch you, worship you, cover you with ourselves until there’s not an inch left unloved. We could spend all night doing it, or at least until you cry and beg us for what you need. You did go to the effort of making yourself so pretty for us, after all.”

Anakin whimpers not to make a noise and finally, slowly looks back up at her. His eyes skim over the warm planes of her hips and stomach, her waist, ribs and all the white web of scar tissue adorning it.

“Not t’night,” he says. 

“Oh?” Rex asks. His gaze catches on the swell of her gorgeous breasts and her large, silk-soft nipples. He strains forward to catch one between his lips and wet it, teasing.

“Jus’ yours,” he says. “‘M all yours, Rex. Just yours, jus’ for you, n’one else’s.”

Rex stops moving for all of half a moment, and Anakin barely even begins to wonder what he’s done wrong before suddenly she’s on her knees and taking his cock as far into her mouth as it can go without her gagging.

“Fuck!” he yelps, and she suctions herself to his length and pulls off so slowly, so tight and hot and wet that his fingers scrape over the buzzed fuzz of her hair before he can think to stop them.

“Good boy,” she says when she pulls off, opening her mouth once again to let saliva roll off her tongue and drip torturously down the underside of his cock and between his balls.

_ “Fuck—” _

She slides her hands over his hips, pushes him down to the bed and swings his legs up too. “You’re so good for me, baby, so pretty. Mesh’la, cyar’ika.  _ Jat’ika.” _

Rex rolls him onto his knees. The side of his face presses into the pillow even as his arms brace against the mattress above his head. He can hear rustling, metal fastenings jangling and the roll of a bottle between hands, and when the cold, slick fingers begin prodding at his entrance through the parting of his shorts it isn’t such a surprise.

“Force, look at you,” she murmurs. “Already done and open for me, aren’t you?”

Anakin would hope so. He’d spent ages in his quarters carefully not-thinking as he fucked himself loose on his fingers, driving himself in circles while he forcefully kept himself from the edge the whole time. He’s glad of it when Rex slips three fingers in with little resistance, pushing and pulling in a hypnotising rhythm before she adds a fourth and final for good measure.

“Can you take it?” she murmurs into his ear. He groans and nods, and she inhales gently. “Anakin, I love you.”

He grins, cracking open an eye to watch her beauty over his shoulder. “Love you too.”

The fingers disappear from inside him in minutes and are replaced instead with something much colder and more solid, a blunted round tip pressing at his welcoming rim. He hums as it pushes in slick, wetting the skin between his cheeks and making a mess that serves only to have his cock straining harder towards his stomach. Small noises, squelching and sucking alike, fill the room. Rex lowers herself along his back once he feels the base of the just-this-side-of-moderate cock against his tailbone, her tits pillowing softly beneath his shoulder blades.

“Look at you,” she murmurs in his ear.  _ “Mesh’la.” _ Anakin shivers and rocks back on her cock. “Mm, hungry, too.”

“Yes,” he says. “Rex, sir, please.”

“So good,” she sighs, and then sits up straight on her knees, her warmth disappearing from his spine but re-settling on his hips in the firm, bruising grip of her hands. She begins to roll her hips, once, twice, thrice and she’s pulling out farther each time, pushing back into him until she’s thrusting with enough force to draw noise from both of their throats.

“I love you, you know,” she pants out. “Every time you run out there with your blasted—lightsaber—and take a flying leap off another—stupidly—tall— _ building.” _

Heat sparks and pools in the pit of Anakin’s gut with every thrust he rocks desperately back on to meet. Every jolt of his hips against hers pushes another crooning gasp from between parted lips, another spasm that has his knees sliding farther and farther apart in the sheets below him. She hooks a hand beneath his right thigh and lifts, pulling him more forcefully into her next thrusts until— _ fuck! _ —she hits that one place that never fails to make him cry out. The hand moves from his thigh to his cock and he is gone, doomed, unable to form a coherent thought for the life of him when she’s buried so deep, so hard, and with such wet warmth wrapped around his shaft and teasing beneath his head.

She leans forward, chuckling with a deep and honeyed voice where her lips brush his shoulder, and bites,  _ hard, _ all for Anakin to whine long and high and come explosively into her hand.

“Yes,” she hisses, licking his wounds.  _ “Jatne, _ cyare. Te jatne.”

He falls face-first into the pillows and moans lowly, the rest of his body following in a heap as she lets him go. He twists to lie on his back, ostensibly to catch his breath but really so he can admire her glowing, heated body above his. She grins at him while she undoes the harness and sets it aside, rolling her hips to tug out the small, gleaming toy she’d had inside herself.

“Sit on my face,” he asks breathlessly.

“What?”

“Sit on my face, Rex, please, Force!” His hands shuffle limply by his sides in her direction. “I need to taste you.”

Abandoning all the gear at the foot of the bed, she crawls her way up his flank and hefts a leg over him until she’s sitting astride his chest, gazing down at him heatedly.

“You want me?”

Anakin’s hands slide up her massive thighs and squeeze. “Kriff, yeah.”

“Like this?” she asks, and moves another few inches up the bed until he sees her cunt before her eyes when he looks up.

“Perfect,” he breathes, and is already turning to suck kisses into the heat of the thigh that’s brushing his nose. His opposite hand climbs to take her arse in hand, kneading the cheek until she squeaks and jerks, the hair between her legs ticking his chin. He pulls her down towards him and buries himself there, tongue darting out quick and flat to lick up her wet slit.

“Yeah, just—” She hums, winding licked-clean fingers into the dark gold of his hair. He smiles and presses between her folds to find her opening and dip in shallowly, tracing just the edge of her inside rim before trailing up, up and out and flicking his tongue over her clit.

_ “Fuck-ing…” _

He alternates between slow and wide, swirling patterns around the base of her slit before curling his tongue through the slick he revels in seeking out of her tight cunt, and rapid, flickering contact over her clit before a longer press, teasing, driving her right to the edge.

“Anakin,” she gasps when he sucks down on her. Small tugs at his hair drive him further into her, near suffocating himself when he forgets to move his nose away to breathe.  _ “Anakin, _ gods.”

He’s tonguing at her clit again when his brain finally catches onto the bright idea to caress his fingers down over her arse to meet his mouth, slipping two of them easily into her cunt and crooking them in time with each fleeting, breathy touch. 

She comes like that, above him, gently grinding herself into his mouth as she arches forward and lets loose a high-pitched noise that satisfies Anakin right down to his core. She drops to the side of the bunk, her back hot between Anakin’s hand and the cool bulkhead and her front pressed tightly to every contour of his side. He lets the hand on her back trail up and down her side in adoration.

“Good?” he murmurs.

Rex huffs a laugh into his neck. “Of course.”

“Still willing to share me?”

“Mmm, maybe. If they’re good.”

“Then you’d better get them on best behaviour, hadn’t you Captain?”

She kisses him slowly, languidly, and he thinks he has his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here on [tumblr!](https://firewoodwander.tumblr.com/)


End file.
